


The curves of your lips rewrite history

by sempreme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottoming from the Top, Dark Mark Kink, Desperation Play, Dirty Talk, Dom Draco, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Get Lucky Fest 2017, HP: EWE, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Professors, I'll go dig my grave, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, No Touching Rule, Oscar Wilde quote in the title because why not, Potions, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Power Play, Praise Kink, Professor Harry Potter, Riding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sub Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, he's very cunning how does Harry even survive, my son Draco only wants The Best, oh and, so much sweat, they kind of share that really, they're like married but without a marrige does it make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempreme/pseuds/sempreme
Summary: God, Harry thought with a large grin on his face. Draco really was the most impossible professor he’d ever seen. How could the students bear him, it was a mystery: Harry wanted to punch his face so bad and then kiss the rudeness out of his mouth.Or, the one where Draco brews Felix Felicis, and Harry gets too curious, breaks the rules and gets punished.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I want to congratulate with myself for not giving up while working on this fic, and always carrying through, even when times weren't good enough to really focus on it. I did it, I'm posting it, **WELL DONE A**.
> 
> Secondly, a **HUGE** thank you goes to the two beautiful betas who looked over it more and more times to make sure my ego didn't overcome writing manners: [torino10154](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154) for the patience and kindness & [azuthlu](https://azuthlu.tumblr.com/) for the excitement and the softness. You're a savage <3
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote this for the **_HP Get Lucky 2017 Fest_** hosted at [HP_GetLucky](http://hp-getlucky.livejournal.com/), _prompt S-20: Draco is teaching his students how to brew Felix Felicis, Harry thinks he's lucky just to watch._
> 
>  
> 
> Last but not least, I solemnly swear that I’m up to good: I don't own the world of Harry Potter and I'm not getting paid for this work, which is for entertainment purpose only.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry was woken up by a gentle hand running through his hair, and a kiss against his forehead.

Then, the mattress dipped down a bit, and suddenly the warm body he was so distinctly feeling just a moment before was gone, leaving him open and sensitive to the morning air of the room.

Harry blinked his eyes, guided by the daylight peeking through the curtains of the room, with the same weakness it was trying to break through the layer of clouds - and failing.

He sighed.

It was Friday. Fucking _finally_.

He began to stretch himself in the sheets that covered his body - a mere tentative motion to keep him warm and content even when the body who used to occupy the other side of the bed was now gone.

Draco was gone.

Harry tried not to pout at the thought, but it was hard.

He couldn't believe their luck this year, really.

When Headmistress McGonagall announced to them, the last week of August - the usual time in which the professors of Hogwarts were called to the school to settle in, organise, and share their summer memories before the arrival of the students on the 1st of September - that their annual schedule had been reconsidered.

Draco was assigned to his usual Potions classes during the week, and so was Harry with the DADA courses, but the change in Harry's schedule was to give him a free day Friday instead of Wednesday - like it always had been - leaving both of them speechless.

For the first time in years, they had different free days, and that meant they couldn’t spend their time organising everything they loved doing together: playing chess - even if Harry was considerately bad at it - just to make Draco a giggling mess; resting by the lake, Harry’s head in Draco’s lap, while Draco held a book just above his face to prevent any distraction, his reading glasses slipping down his nose (Harry couldn’t exactly see that, but he knew); eating treacle tart and creamy croissants by the fire in the late afternoon; Harry sucking Draco’s cock in the Prefect’s Bathroom, because “You’re so _dramatic_ , Potter, aren’t you?”

 

 

***

 

 

Harry and Draco had started dating during their first year as teachers at the School of Wizarding and Witchcraft of Hogwarts, four years after the Battle.

It had started with a casual shag to erase the stress, but one night, Harry had shouted, “Get out of my head, you stupid git,” approaching Draco’s room after a nightmare, messed up hair and red eyes.

Since then, they'd been almost inseparable, sharing rooms at school first, then a house - they redecorated Grimmauld Place, much to the amusement and excitement of Draco - and their circles of friends.

Their first _I love you_ ’s, on a Saturday night just a couple of months after their second anniversary. Much to Draco’s surprise, it had felt so good saying something like that out loud. 

Even so, Draco had been still unsure he was suited to be in contact with so many young children without actually damaging them, and Harry had left Aurors after months of training - mostly spent trying to figure out what the hell his life was meant for. Despite all that, after the first amazing year as professors at Hogwarts, they’d decided it was what they’d wanted to do for their future, and along with that came the agreement to never interfere with each other's teaching.

“Have you the _vaguest_ idea of how much of a distraction you are? Not a single student would listen to me anymore, if you would happen to be in my classroom,” Draco had explained, when Harry had voiced his suggestion to him.

“Not to mention you could cause serious damage. Honestly, I can’t believe you survived Sixth Year, even with Snape’s help.”

Harry had tried to persuade him then, begging to get a sneak peek, a little one, just to see how Draco really _was_ when he entered his teaching mode.

However, Draco had been immovable, even after a good bunch of orgasms, in which he hadn’t lost the opportunity to fuck Harry against the mattress with his wrists pinned down, head thrown back to beg, ears burning with the effort to ignore his cock throbbing underneath him, while Draco’s kept hitting his spot – because, apparently, “You never learn, do you? You keep challenging me for fun, but _who_ ’s having fun right now? Oh, not you, darling, you’re just a poor begging mess at my mercy,” - and never stopped doing so, until Harry came with a loud cry, matching Draco’s rough words, “Yes, come on, yeah, just like that, Harry, you’re so good, _so_ good.”

After a cleaning charm and a good, well-deserved cuddle, Harry had tried to ask him for the last time. “I can be good, you know,” he had insisted. “I’ll sit in the shadow and let you do your teaching.”

Draco had snorted, and then proceeded to cover Harry’s body with his own, hand intertwined just above Harry’s stomach, a kiss delivered against his still sweaty cheek.

“Nope,” he had said, simply and final, and then, with a flick of his wand, the lights went off.

 

 

 ***

 

 

Now, with the morning energy running through his body, Draco’s decision didn’t seem to be so difficult to bypass anymore.

One couldn’t really blame him: Harry was incredibly curious to see his boyfriend at work, his fantasies didn’t satisfy him anymore.

It had never been a big deal before. With both of them always teaching at the same time during the day, the restriction Draco had put over his class hadn’t been so deliciously breakable for Harry - who still couldn’t believe that being a Defense Against Dark Arts professor had turned out to be the job of his life, and certainly had his problems and occupations with his own class, thank you very much.

Now though, the idea of seeing Draco brewing potions at his own desk, surrounded by children with sparkling eyes - and bored expressions, like himself a long time ago… He simply couldn’t let the occasion slip away.

Of course, he knew how much Draco considered concentration almost sacred, and he always expected the best from himself while doing his job.

They had built his personal potions lab at Grimmauld Place, when Draco had moved in there, so it wasn’t like Harry had never seen him working with ingredients and liquids of every kind of colour, density and smell.

(It has to be said that in that lab, he had some of the best sex of his life, with Draco always enjoying compliments about his profession a bit too much and things quickly escalating from tender to roleplay.)

Harry had decided anyway, he couldn’t think about it anymore - he had never been the calculating type.

He took a quick shower to loosen his back muscles, still aching and tired from the night before – not that Harry wanted to complain about it.

Once dressed, with droplets of water still sticking to his unruly curls, he got out in the chill breeze of the castle, walking in the direction of the classrooms.

He waved at a few ghosts along the corridor, and his face opened in the first genuine smile of the day, when a well-know figure approached him.

“Hello, Neville,” Harry greeted the man, a hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder.

Neville gave him an half-hug, hair tickling Harry’s face as he leaned in a little over his smaller figure.

“Harry,” he simply said with an amused tone. “Everything’s alright? It’s your free day, why aren’t you in bed resting your lazy arse”

“Speaking about lazy arses” Harry snorted. “How was the holiday with Hannah?”

Neville blushed a little at the mention of his wife, a hand coming up to scratch his nose.

“Delightful, thanks, mate. She really was stressed, the baby is growing so fast and she’s always grumpy and calling for me… You know, pregnancy stuff.”

Harry didn’t actually know, per se.

Tonks hadn’t been around when she had been pregnant with Teddy, and Fleur had moved to France when she had been expecting Victoire, claiming she needed her family close to her as Bill was always too occupied with his job at the Ministry.

Harry didn’t have much experience with pregnant women - and it wasn’t like he _needed_ to.

However, Neville looked so joyful while talking about his beloved wife and the child they were expecting together (Neville had stressed many times that _a baby is an affair of two people, and not just of one person alone_ ).

Harry didn’t want to break the mood by letting his hesitancy towards the theme come to the surface. “I’m glad everything’s okay,” he simply congratulated him. “I’ll go see Hannah as soon as I’m free, and maybe I’ll tell Hermione to come, too? Also, I’m sure Ginny and the Patil twins will be happy to visit.”

(Hannah had become a close friend of theirs, being Neville’s wife and all, and visits from others of the group weren’t unusual at Hogwarts. Harry had a tea planned with Hermione, Ron, George and Angelina for the following day.)

“I’ll check with her after this afternoon class and see if she feels like it,” Neville agreed. “But what about _your_ other half? Any chance to receive his welcome before next year?” he asked, half joking, half serious, as if he really expected _that_ from Draco (he should have, with no one knowing what the git’s thoughts were - except Harry _knew_ , thank you very much).

“I’m sure you’ll see him around,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes. “He’s not difficult to miss, you know, with the shiny hair and moody temperament.”

Neville laughed aloud, not bothering to cover his mouth, as his voice echoed through the corridors.

“But don’t tell him I said that,” Harry alerted him with a smirk. “He’d probably cut off my head and give it to the Giant Squid to eat.

Neville made a vague gesture with a hand. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’m still a war hero who fought against the devil. These days I try to prevent a death sentence when I sense one.”

Harry nodded, smiling, “That you are.”

Then, he shook Neville’s hand with the intent to leave him. “Sorry, have to go. To, you know,” he gestured to the rest of the castle, the thought of Draco unspoken, “prevent any of those sentences from coming true.”

Neville snickered and waved at him, already walking away. “See you at lunch, mate.”

Harry marched towards the class where Draco was teaching.

 

 

 ***

 

 

Draco had decided to move from the dungeons where Snape had been previously giving his lessons due to the memories the place brought up in him.

“I know what he did, and I know it wasn’t okay. Still, he cared about me somehow, and I knew I could talk to him,” Draco had explained, when they first returned to the classroom years before and Draco’s breath had become unsteady.

Harry understood. He also knew it was a matter of pride for Draco to teach Potions in the right way, he certainly didn’t want to feel shaky and unclear every time he’d have stepped into the room.

He _demanded_ to exhibit confidence, experience, and firmness to his students, but he also didn’t want to set aside the idea of becoming someone to call for in case of a problem, to ask for advice or a general encouragement in any situation.

He wanted to be better than Snape.

And that was exactly what Harry expected to see when entering Draco’s class.

 

 

 ***

 

 

The door was closed, but he succeeded in opening it without making any noise.

Yes, Harry really was a shameless bastard, and he wanted to be _caught_. Just, not immediately.

He first wanted to see Draco while he was being a professor, in his element. He just needed to use his best skills, stay quiet and act like he was a student again.

While entering the room with quiet steps over the stone floor, Harry thought about the Invisibility Cloak hanging in Teddy’s wardrobe. It would’ve been much easier sneaking in with it, but there wasn’t much he could do.

Draco was standing in front of his desk: he was holding a little vial in one hand, while with the other, he gestured in the direction of the students, who were giving him their complete attention.

There was a strange atmosphere in the air, and somehow it wasn’t new to Harry.

He remembered clearly the day Professor Slughorn had talked to the class about the Felix Felicis and how they could all have earned some drops of it, if they’d succeeded in brewing the perfect Draught of Living Death.

He remembered the Half-Blood Prince, and how he’d helped with winning the vial.

He shivered at the memory of what had come next.

“This is not something you can joke with, “ Draco spoke with a steady tone.

His green robes – such a _Slytherin_ – stood out in the room thanks to the big and bright windows, matching perfectly with the pale colour of his skin.

His hair was styled in the usual posh way, but even from the back of the classroom, Harry could see how some white blond strands were poking out from behind his ears - a sign that he hadn’t been so careful in front of the mirror that morning, leaving his impeccable manners outside the bathroom’s door for once, still dazed and content from the night before...

Harry smiled at the memory.

“Although the etymology of Felix Felicis comes from the Latin “ _luck of luck_ ”, you don’t want to play with the Fortune. If brewed incorrectly, it may lead to intoxication and other dangerous side effects I won’t mention, because you’ll never need to drink any of it in your life.”

A general sound of distress rose from the audience, the students obviously disappointed they weren’t going to have the chance to try it.

“I am sorry, students, but first, it’s not the easiest potion to brew, and re-creating it will take me some time and, more important, ingredients I’m not happy to waste; and second, cheating is absolutely not necessary when you want to gain a goal, so stand up and take what you want with your own forces.”

 _God_ , Harry thought with a large grin on his face. Draco really was the most _impossible_ professor he’d ever seen. How could the students bear him, it was a mystery: Harry wanted to punch his face so bad and then kiss the rudeness out of his mouth.

However, Harry knew Draco seriously cared for the children he was teaching.

He believed in the values that had shaped his soul during the postwar years, leaving behind whatever bullshit his father had taught him, and becoming his own man: strong, sure, capable, and at the same time remaining the obscene, furious boy he’d been during his years of study at Hogwarts, but with so much more beauty, protective feelings, attractiveness.

Harry truly was in love with him.

He didn’t need a potion to help him find some luck towards happiness: he felt lucky to just sit and admire what Draco was like.

The bell rang, and the kids rose from their desks and started to move towards the exit.

Harry felt a silly panic filling his chest, and he didn’t have the time to think about where to hide, because students from the back of the classroom were already nose to nose with him, his body smashed against the cold wall in a poor attempt at camouflaging himself. _Honestly_.

“Professor Harry!” a girl with a ponytail exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

About thirty pair of eyes were on him instantly. Draco’s were the thirty-first.

“Errr,” he tried to find an excuse, even a stupid one, the most stupid excuse a human being caught red-handed could think of, but Draco’s eyes were penetrating his soul, two grey lights that were shining with astonishment, disappointment and _oh_ , was that anger?

“C’mon,” Draco said, strangely cheerful, walking towards the little group that had formed around Harry. “Out of the way. Potter is here because we have urgent matters to discuss.”

Harry eyed him. "We do?" he asked, half oblivious to whatever Draco had in mind, half terribly aware he would not get away with what had happened so easily.

"Yes, _darling_ ," Draco mocked him, conscious that the students around them would've picked it up and started to laugh. It happened.

"Go, please, and remember to write that essay about the people who used Liquid Luck and what happened to them," Draco said, and gave Harry a quick smirk.

While ordering the kids, he waved his hands in an attempt to make clear around him and Harry.

He accidentally (or not) touched Harry's shoulder in the process, making goosebumps run fast along his skin.

Nothing else happened, until all the students were gone to the next course, and he and Draco were now alone in the Potions classroom.

Expectation was so heavy in the air Harry couldn’t dare to look at Draco, frozen in the spot, hands in the old hoodie he had put on that morning, not even breathing.

"Mmh," Draco murmured, suddenly coming closer to Harry. "Now, would you please explain to me why you came into my classroom uninvited, bypassing the ban I explicitly put on the matter?" he asked, mellifluous voice that clashed with the probing question.

It was the same tone he also used when he ordered Harry onto his knees, so it left Harry a bit unsteady, breath still suck in his throat and hands clenching and unclenching in the pockets.

"Wanted to see you," Harry replied, finally looking at Draco's face and seeing the challenge there. He took a steadier breath.

"You see me all the time," Draco pointed out, hands coming up to grip at Harry's hips, pulling him closer to Draco's body. Harry shivered when his breath prickled at his hair.

"Wanted to see you here, teaching," Harry clarified. He didn't want to seem _too_ desperate for Draco's attention, Draco's touch and care and love. (In reality, he was _addicted_.)

"Mmh," Draco murmured again, and then lowered his head to kiss Harry's lips, softly, barely there.

"But," he whispered against Harry’s mouth, "you know it's a rule I didn't want you to break."

Harry's mind was already hazy.

He'd come down okay the night before - Draco would've never left him in the morning without being sure he had - but Draco's proximity still made him incapable of thinking too much, and maybe this was what really had made him chose to come to Draco's class in the first place, this need not to think.

His hands clenched at Draco's arms, shaking a little.

"Just wanted to see you," he repeated, trying to fake his insecurity with a little smile.

Draco certainly wasn't a fool. He knew too much about Harry's tricks, feelings and desires.

In fact, "Just see? No touching then?" he teased, gently pulling away from Harry's half-hug.

Harry made an embarrassing whine of protest, but he let Draco turn around and walk away from him in the direction of his desk, where a bunch of ingredients and potions were displayed.

After a minute that felt like hours, "I know the rules," Harry exclaimed, when Draco seemed to have chosen to ignore him, while tiding the surface and putting the material on the shelves.

"I know you do," Draco finally spoke. He was done clearing everything up, so he gave Harry a quick gaze and gestured towards him to move closer.

"That's why, when you break them, I have to punish you."

Harry gulped at the words. "I didn't want to get bored, you know I get bored easily. I thought I could have a peek, I wasn't, I just," he tried to justify himself, even though everything seemed superfluous, because he _had_ wanted to break Draco's rule.

"That's not a good excuse," Draco said, finally giving Harry his complete attention. "That's not a good excuse at all," he repeated, while checking Harry out.

Suddenly, Harry was aware he wasn't wearing his best outfit - worn-out hoodie, simple jeans, trainers - and that his hair had probably become a real bird's nest, but at the moment he couldn’t give a flying fuck about his appearance.

"Sit down," Draco ordered him.

Harry looked around and saw a chair near the desk. He sat and waited for Draco's next move.

"You wanted to watch? I'll give you a nice show, then," Draco announced.

With a quick flick of his wand both Harry's legs and arms were tied to the chair by what seemed like rope - but knowing Draco, it could’ve possibly been silk.

Surprise hit Harry hard, eyes wide and breath choked.

Harry looked up and Draco was already in front of him, his most serious face scanning him, grey eyes telling him things Harry knew had a meaning, but was too occupied trying to steady his own breath to process.

"All right?" Draco asked, bony hand coming up to caress his cheek. Harry leaned in just a bit.

"Green," he murmured, already on the edge.

Draco nodded and walked away again, ignoring Harry’s whine of protest.

He sat on the table, legs spread out in front of him, and began to open his robes, button after button.

“What,” Harry asked, tone half alarmed, half excited, already trying to break free from the ropes.

Draco’s only reply was the dirtiest of his smiles.

He continued to strip, getting rid first of the robes, then of the jumper he was wearing beneath, pale arms and collarbone suddenly on display, so much white-pink skin to touch and Harry’s hand were stuck to the goddamn chair.

Apparently, Draco’s plan was to give Harry an heart attack, because after the jumper, it was the turn of the trousers to disappear, and then _boom_ , Draco Malfoy in only a pair of grey pants - matching his eyes, _how_ could he do it? - was on display in front of him.

“Wanted to watch? So watch,” Draco whispered like the filthiest secret.

Harry’s heart almost jumped out of his ribcage.

It wasn’t happening. It _wasn’t_.

Draco was _not_ going to wank in front of him, in the classroom he taught in everyday, in full daylight, with Harry’s arms and legs tied.

Harry hadn’t seen him perform any Silencing spell to the class, and, _oh God_ , was it really what he was going to do?

Draco wasn’t _that_ much of a bastard, was he?

Every doubt flew away when one of Draco’s hands moved from his hips to his navel, circling it for a bit, and then lower.

“No,” Harry moaned, wriggling on the chair, ropes burning holes in his skin. “Please, let me, let me.”

This was nothing compared to spanking or kneeling for an hour.

In those cases, Harry would’ve always been reassured of a reward after the session, warms hands against his skin that would’ve made him feel like he was still good even if he’d broken a rule – that would’ve made _both_ of them good, because, as Draco reminded to him from time to time, “Nothing makes me happy like making you happy.”

Now though, Draco was going for a different approach, something they’d never done before, and Harry didn’t see any prospect of a win-win situation.

He was going to suffer, and Draco did _want_ him to suffer, and _fuck_.

“No touching, remember,” Draco addressed him, as he started to caress his cock under the fabric of his pants, long and deep strokes that made his chest flush and his breath become unsteady already.

Harry whined louder, almost closing his eyes. It was starting to become too much already.

Draco was now fully wanking himself in front of a tied up Harry, and the thought of that beautiful body, the body of the man he so desperately loved and needed, at two feet away from him, and he couldn’t do anything but sit down and watch...

“Draco, please,” he pleaded again, throwing his head back.

Drops of sweat were starting to run along his back and his cock was already hard in the tight jeans, making it impossible for him to move around without feeling constricted.

Draco simply smirked, and continued to pump his thick cock through the fabric, giving little moans of pleasure every now and then.

His pale legs were thrown out in front of him, and with the arm that wasn’t busy wanking he was holding himself up on the desk, blue veins standing out aggressively along with the muscles.

His chest was rosy pink for the effort of restraining himself from coming, and so were his cheeks. His grey eyes were flashing with lust, desire and the dirtiness he was well aware he was exuding.

If earlier Harry had been feeling lucky just to watch his lover, now he _so_ needed to touch him that any other thought seemed superficial.

He was probably talking aloud, because, “You want to touch, mmh?” Draco mocked him, giving his cock a longer, deeper and slower stroke on purpose.

“You’re so desperate to please me you can barely function,” Draco said, and truth he spoke.

Harry wasn’t ashamed of the burning desire he was feeling.

Every minute spent worshipping Draco’s body was a moment of pure joy, and being deprived of such a fulfilling sensation was driving Harry mad.

His cock was now painfully hard, and he wanted Draco to let his mask slip a bit and come closer to sitting on it. He wanted Draco to acknowledge that Harry had learned the lesson, that he was aware he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have, and finally let his guard down and give Harry some relief.

Draco moved a little then, and lowered his now wet-with-precome underpants, exposing his pink cock to the light of the room – and to Harry’s gaze.

Harry almost choked on his frantic breathing.

Immediately, Draco looked at him, genuinely concerned for a moment, but then Harry gave a long, low moan, and he continued removing the piece of cloth, the evil smile perpetually on his lips.

Draco was again in his previous position, bare skin on full display, and he began to jerk off more vigorously, hand gripping his cock with the sole intent of coming, precome easing the movements, an incessant _slap slap_ echoing through the walls along with Harry’s whines.

He was a vision.

His skin glistened with sweat over his tense muscles; strands of blond hair were standing out over his forehead, and every now and then he shook his head to clear his vision, eyes constantly fixed on Harry’s face; his mouth was open, little moans escaping his shiny lips over which his teeth shined when he bit them.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

“Draco,” he whined, eyes settled on the red, almost purple tip of Draco’s cock, mouth watering at the thought of tasting it, feeling its known weight on his tongue, anchoring him to the ground.

His mind was almost floating with the intensity of his desire to touch that body that was giving itself pleasure.

He wanted to help, he wanted to be rewarded because he’d been _good_ at helping.

“Please…,” he begged again, tears almost at the corner of his eyes. “Please, please, please.”

“Hush now,” Draco demanded, slowing down the hand on his cock. “You don’t get to come here and moan like a dirty bitch.”

Harry, constantly trying to get rid of the ropes, now froze on the chair.

His cock twitched dangerously inside his jeans, and he had to stop breathing, because another rub and he would’ve come, _fuck_ , he would’ve come untouched just from Draco’s dirty talk.

Draco jumped down from the desk and walked in front of Harry, who was still not breathing.

“Silly,” Draco addressed him, suddenly with a fond tone and a half smile.

One of his hands came up to cup Harry’s cheek, gently caressing the heated skin there, while the other tugged at the hair on his scalp, hard.

Harry breathed out.

“Did you seriously think I would come without getting to use this perfect body?” Draco whispered in his ear while his hands started to map Harry’s back - obviously a rhetorical question. “It’d be a shame.”

Harry simply nodded, never lowering his gaze from Draco’s face, bathing in every second he was allowed to breathe near him after having begged shamelessly for his touch.

Now, he didn’t care what Draco had in mind.

Harry was sweating and trembling and panting like he’d just finished a marathon. He just wanted to come, and to come on – or, possibly, _in_ – Draco’s body.

Suddenly, Draco proceeded to unzip Harry’s jeans, slender hands working quickly, and then he lowered them under Harry’s bum.

There was a brief pause in which Draco waited for Harry to do the obvious.

When it didn’t come, “Be good,” Draco warned him, and Harry finally lifted his hips and let Draco remove the jeans just enough for Harry’s cock to be free from the constriction.

Harry made a noise of approval, trying to catch Draco’s mouth, who was busy adjusting himself on Harry’s lap.

However, he failed, because Draco cast other charms – wandless charms, _Jesus Christ_ \- on his body, and in a flash Harry was shirtless, while other ropes – definitely silk now – appeared around his chest and legs, making it impossible for Harry to move anything else but his head.

Harry could feel his heart beating really fucking _fast_ in his throat.

“Colour?” Draco asked him, taking Harry’s chin between his slim fingers and looking into his eyes, into his soul, burning everything on the way and rebuilding it fulfilled with amazement, trust, need, _love_.

“’m green, please,” Harry replied, seeming impossible to get rid of that petulant tone.

Draco simply nodded at his response, this time not showing any sign of disapproval towards his behaviour.

Even better, he squeezed one of his nipples, giving him a tentative smile, and then cast a nonverbal charm to get rid of Harry’s pants, too.

Surprise hit Harry like a truck, this time making him grin unintentionally.

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” Draco demanded, tone always authoritative but with a hint of happiness, as he pumped his cock in front of Harry’s eyes and against their stomachs, creating a puddle of precome right in Harry’s navel.

“Remember I’m about to use you because you’ve been so bad I don’t trust you to do anything else but sit and take whatever I’m going to give to you.”

Harry nodded furiously at him, and gasped when Draco’s hand moved until he cupped Harry’s cock from behind his back, and _fuck_.

Harry couldn’t stop chanting a series of _yes yes yes_ as Draco touched his cock for the first time since the scene had started minutes (hours?) before.

He squeezed the base, played a bit with the pubic hair there, and began to move his hand up and down Harry’s length, spreading the wetness over the sensitive skin, creating multicolour patterns of pleasure behind Harry’s eyelids.

Harry moaned loudly as Draco played with the tip, the only purpose to make him suffer.

“Be good,” Draco warned him again.

Then, he took full hold of Harry’s cock, lining it up with his entrance, and _sweet God_ , when did he prepare himself?

His hole was already slick and warm and _so fucking perfect_ Harry could have screamed from the top of his lungs.

Draco tried once, twice to align Harry’s cock perfectly, always failing and letting it slip against his crack every time.

Harry wanted _so bad_ to use his hands and grip at Draco’s hips to move him exactly where he was needed.

The thought made him cry out loud, throwing his head back.

Finally, the tip of Harry’s cock entered Draco’s hole just a tiny bit and _oh fuck, oh fuck_ , everything was so right and wonderful and _fuck_.

“Yes, fuck, please,” Harry whined, trying to move further into Draco’s heated walls.

Draco’s hands came up to stop him, nails sinking into his arms for the briefest of the moments.

“Don’t even try,” he hissed through his teeth. “I’ll ride you at my pace, as deep as I want, for how long I intend to go on,” he cleared, never stopping looking directly in Harry’s eyes, whose cock twitched dangerously, half-already in Draco’s arse.

Harry gulped and watched - felt - Draco as he lowered slowly on his length, rotating his hips just every now and then to get used to the stretch.

During sex, even if his behaviour was of the bossy one, Draco was delighted at the thought of being fucked, when he was in the right mood. He was a pro when it came to riding Harry’s dick and give him the most satisfying of orgasms.

Also, Draco was a total exhibitionist, and never missed the chance to jump on Harry’s length or face, usually grabbing his own cheeks to give his partner the perfect view of his twitching hole wrapped around Harry’s cock or tongue like the most delicious of the promises.

Draco was quick at taking what he wanted, but he also loved teasing Harry to the point he was barely able to develop any word. Making Harry suffer in the process was what really was best.

Once Draco was fully seated on Harry’s cock, buttocks against thighs, he exhaled out loud, moaning deliciously.

Harry couldn’t look anywhere but at Draco’s red face, the muscles of his arms, his chest almost against his face, skin clean and covered with light and fuzzy hair.

He couldn’t feel anything else other than the tight grip around his cock, warm all around, making him feel so comfortable he almost wanted to cry, because it was perfect, and it was all he needed in his life to be okay.

He did whine, teary eyes asking Draco for permission to do something.

“I move, you stay still,” Draco eventually reminded him, cautious to never lower his arms too much and touch Harry’s body. However, the base of his own cock along with his balls were brushing against Harry’s lower stomach, and Harry wouldn’t dare speak about it.

Draco finally started to move then, little thrusts of his hips, and _fuck_ if he wasn't tight and wet and perfect.

Harry was already panting, well aware he was probably looking ridiculous - bitten lips opened in a look of amazement, shiny eyes now gazing furiously between Draco’s swollen cock bouncing against their stomachs and Draco’s face, where sweat covered the unusually bright pink skin and pupils were dilated from lust.

“Merlin,” Draco murmured when he lifted himself until just the tip of Harry’s length was inside him and then returned to the base, mouth open in the prettiest of the smiles.

Draco rode Harry’s cock using only his legs to elevate himself, as his arms were thrown out and his chest was distanced from Harry’s.

Indeed it was an unusual position for both of them, as it was common for Draco to put his arms around Harry’s shoulders and allow his body to be the most possible in contact with Harry’s skin, also to create the ideal friction for his leaking cock.

Now, Harry was feeling the lack of contact like a part of his body had been discarded from him, couldn’t stop thinking about his hands squeezing Draco’s hips, angling him where it was best, kissing him deep, tongue exploring the inside of his mouth, caressing his pink lips, biting and tasting them.

“So bloody _good_ ,” Draco moaned again.

Harry took some encouragement then, as it wasn’t an everyday hobby for Draco to swear: it only happened when he was particularly pissed off or during enjoyable sex, so Harry’s chest was now filled with pride from doing the right thing – staying still and taking only what Draco allowed.

The friction on his cock was starting to become too much, along with the smell of sweat and sex filling the room, the incredible vision of Draco’s tensed body finding its own pleasure by using Harry’s, the noises Draco couldn’t stop voicing from his mouth – “Fuck, Harry, yes, your cock is, _fuck_ ”.

“Gonna come,” Harry warned him, lips tight and neck aching for the need of kisses.

Draco looked at him then, stilled his movements for a moment, and started to bounce again on his length, but more vigorously and disconnected now, in the frantic way that usually meant he was close, too.

“Don’t until I say so,” Draco ordered him frantically, a clear challenge in his gaze. Certainly Harry wasn’t going to disobey him, if that meant he was at least allowed to empty his balls – which, he was sure, were blue from the need to release.

Draco rode him long and deep, repeatedly hitting his most sensible spot, eyes tightly closed, head thrown out in the air, continuous _uh uh_ coming from his open, wet lips.

His cock had gone almost purple against Harry’s belly, and the velvety warmth that was his arse squeezed incessantly around Harry’s cock, which was hard as a rock and on the very edge of falling off Harry’s body for how much it ached.

“Oh, _fuck_ , fff-,” Draco moaned, and then he came, hard, all over Harry’s torso.

In the heat of the moment, Draco forgot about the strict rule of ‘no touching’, and his arms came up to Harry’s shoulders, tight and hot and everything Harry could’ve ever dreamt of.

Breathing hard, Harry ears were ringing with how much he had wanted Draco’s touch against his skin.

Draco continued to whine thought his orgasm, tiny movements of his hips around Harry’s cock, wet sounds filling the room.

Harry felt so loved in Draco’s strong embrace, desperate to soak in Draco’s heat, as if he had being starved affection and acknowledgment all the time, even though his cock had been _up_ Draco’s arse, even though Draco had kept calling him _good boy_ , even though he’d made Draco come _so hard_ his mask had slipped off his face.

Draco finally stilled on Harry’s lap, but his arms didn’t leave Harry’s body. Head crooked in Harry’s neck, he nosed at his jawline.

Harry sighed, and turned his head just a bit, until he was at the level of Draco’s Dark Mark on his left arm. He closed his eyes, kissing it, murmuring low against the ruined skin.

Draco was taken by surprise. He whined loud and somehow needy in his ear, rocking his hips again against Harry’s sticky-with-come stomach.

Harry looked down and saw little drops of come still leaving Draco’s spent cock. _Fuck_.

He was again aware of how much he needed to release his balls, too. Draco’s body was so welcoming and soft around Harry’s he had almost forgotten how desperate he’d previously been.

“C’n I?” Harry asked, almost a whisper, looking at Draco’s face, whose skin was still hot and sweaty, pants coming out from his bitten mouth.

Finally, Draco nodded, and with a gesture of the hand, he set Harry free from the ropes.

Immediately, Harry raised his hands, gripping hard at Draco’s hips, ignoring the stinging pain in his wrist caused by the blood beginning to circulate again.

He started to fuck Draco’s loose hole, now in charge of the rhythm and the force to invest in the act.

Draco whined softly in his ear, still very sensitive after his orgasm, like he’d always been, but didn’t stop Harry, whose cock was the hardest Harry could ever remember.

The vision of Draco’s body - pliant and spent and content - being so easily manhandled, bouncing on his length and making him feel sparks of joy running through his veins, was simply too much.

Few minutes later, Harry was coming, too, long and deep thrust up Draco’s arse, up to reach his heart.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry moaned, breathless.

He felt Draco smiling against his neck, and teeth were suddenly biting at his earlobe, hard.

A hint of excitement ran along his back, making him expose his neck better to let Draco have better access to whatever he had in mind to do. As long as his skin was against Draco’s, he didn’t care.

“Don’t call me baby,” Draco hissed in his ear, “ _ever again_.”

Goosebumps run along Harry’s body, head spinning and hands clenching Draco’s hips harder.

He tried to nod, but he didn’t succeeded much.

Draco removed his arms from Harry’s shoulders, hands gently petting the top of his head where his curls were longer and wilder.

Harry almost purred at the contact, and seconds later, Draco was moving forward, kissing him deep and sweet.

Harry breathed in, closing his eyes to the contact, feeling every word Draco meant - _I’m proud of you_ , _I care about you_ , _I love you_ – but wasn’t going to say - it hadn’t been a particular deep session, and Draco never said things like that if not necessary required.

Despite his wishes not to let him go so soon, Draco moved, removing Harry’s hands, fingers still deep in Draco’s flesh, from his hips.

Harry winced a bit at the contact.

He’d been oblivious to whatever marks the ropes could’ve possibly left on his skin, but now, as Draco carefully examined his wrists, he saw bright pink spots where silk had tightened the most.

Draco encircled the abraded skin with his hands. Immediately, a fresh sensation gave Harry some relief, making the distressed feeling go away seconds later.

His head was already clearer.

“When did you learn to do that?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

Draco snorted, lifting his hips, until Harry’s cock slipped from his hole, slapping against Harry’s belly, heavy and, if possible, getting even wetter because of Draco’s come there, some of it already sticking on Harry’s skin.

“Well, am I not the most capable Potions master Hogwarts’ ever had,” Draco spoke, a stupid grin on his face already.

However, his cheeks were still flushed from the fuck, his hair the messiest, so Harry wasn’t going to complain much about the return of his usual stubborn self. He _loved_ Draco’s stubborn self.

 

(If there was a thing he wanted to complain about, it was the fact he wasn’t allowed to fuck Draco any time of the day.

“My my, Potter, your ego is even bigger than I expected,” Draco had teased him, the first time Harry had voiced his thoughts regarding the matter.

In his defence, Draco had let himself be fucked against the mattress once again minutes later, so Harry hadn’t spoken in vain.)

 

“You and I know who’s the most capable Potion master here,” Harry eyed him.

He realized his glasses were badly crooked on his nose, and in an attempt to adjust them, he moved both his and Draco’s hand, letting Draco do the work in his place.

“Yes, we do,” Draco agreed, a tiny smile on his lips. “But now shut up.”

“Not going to happen,” Harry chuckled. Draco simply rolled his eyes.

“Besides,” Harry added, arms moving to embrace Draco’s body fully, “you can consider yourself luckier than him.”

“How so?” Draco asked, eyebrows frowning in the way that made Harry going crazy.

“Because you have me,” Harry revealed, his best smile radiating through the room.

Draco looked at him for a second with the weirdest of the expressions. Then, he burst into laughter, high voice echoing through the big room that now smelled so much like sex Harry wasn’t sure Draco was going to get rid of the stink before the next class.

“You,” Draco started, when he’d calmed down a bit, “say the cheesiest things after I’ve let you fuck me.”

Harry tightened his grip. “But you love it,” he said, running his hands over the expanse of Draco’s arse.

“That I do,” Draco whispered against his lips. “I’m a lucky man indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are genuinely accepted, here or on the [LJ post ](http://hp-getlucky.livejournal.com/66910.html)**❤**
> 
> Let's chat on [Tumblr](https://sempre--me.tumblr.com/), where also a rebloggable post for this fic can be found [here](https://sempre--me.tumblr.com/post/159017599612/the-curves-of-your-lips-rewrite-history-harry)!


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